Corruption
by WinterLoveSong
Summary: The only ones fit to have power are the ones who never seek it. Delita/Ovelia. Oneshot. WARNING: Character death.


**I don't own Final Fantasy Tactics.**

* * *

The flowers smelled like her.

Of course, that was why Delita had bothered to pick them at all. Ovelia always did have kind of a natural, floral scent to her; it was so innocent and pure, and fitting for the girl. She did so express those times of naivete. At times, though, her constant righteousness became insufferable, especially at times when it really wasn't needed, or wanted. Still, he didn't mind anything that reminded him of the Princess.

_Queen, now,_ he reminded himself. _ And you're King.  
_  
Even now, thinking back on all those people he'd manipulated, or stepped on, or even traumatized, he did not feel much regret. In fact, all he could do was internally gloat. He was King. Not the late Princes Larg and Goltana, not a Beoulve, but a commoner, a farmer no less. He had risen above it all, above all the power-hungry nobles with their invisible puppet strings, unable to be touch by even the Church behind the madness. He was free, and it was hard not to be pompous about the fact.

And, to his satisfaction, he controlled the freedom of everyone in Ivalice. That was the kind of true power the Church and the crazed royals had craved - the power to make anyone and everyone kneel. Well, who had been rewarded with that rule? The poor Delita Hyral, always stepped on by the rich and the snobbish and the higher-ups. Well. Who was doing the squashing now?

Of course, today of all days he had no reason to dirty his boots with noble filth (_now that I neatly fall into that category_, he observed with some chagrin). And after all, almost every puppet master was dead anyway, or weak. The Church of Glabados had fallen in power evern since the heretic Ramza Beoulve soiled their plans.

The thought of Delita's old friend sent a twinge of bittersweet sadness through his core...but it only lasted a moment. Sure, Ramza had been all right in the beginning. "All right" meaning the only true friend Delita had had. But later, he became a bit too concerned with the pointless things, like right and wrong. Sometimes you had to do the wrong thing to get to the right path. At least there would be no more high-and-mighty Beoulves.

Not that Ramza had been high-and-mighty. In fact, Delita still felt upset over his old friend's death. He - and Alma - had been the only bearable Beoulves. Still. He had been caught up in playing the hero and saving Alma. Look where so-called "heroics" had gotten him - dead, and labeled as a heretic. The moral is that you can't get what you want by being the good guy all the time. Delita had tried to be nice, of course, and his efforts had been wasted by that idiot Algus.

Teta was still dead, and nothing would ever reverse that.

He was shaken from his darker memories by the sight of broken walls. The ruins of Zeltennia Castle. The chances were high that Ovelia may be lurking in here, mourning over the damage the War had caused.

His faithful Chocobo padded silently beneath the stone arches, which was what was left of the gate. Grass had already begun to grow, and the breeze billowed out his magnificent red cape behind him - a cloud of scarlet. The sun was shining brilliantly on this perfect day. He felt good, the bloodshed finally past him. Perhaps now he could settle down, live peacefully as King. Maybe he could put an end to those dark thoughts that still niggled at him in the night, whispering in his ear, telling him that using people would always be his greatest thrill...

Delita shook his head impatiently, his eyes scouring the ruins. There would be time for that kind of thinking later.

And there, on the edge of the ruins, he saw her. Illuminated by the sun, Ovelia's whole form was lit up almost angelically, as if confessing how pure the soul that inhabited the form was. A slender hand grasped the edge of the broken wall, dainty against the rough stone remains. He couldn't see her face, but something about her stance seemed oddly tense.

Was something wrong with his beautiful Queen, the Queen he sometimes couldn't believe was his, the Queen he felt stronger about every passing minutee? It was true that he had hardly seen her since his interrogation of Olan Durai. But that was no matter. She would be happy today, because he wished her to be happy. No matter who you were, whatever the King wanted, it would be done.

"There you are." Delita announced his presence lightly, allowing his voice to be swept away by the gentle wind, not wanting to startle the girl. "Everyone's been looking for you."

Ovelia did not respond, and Delita frowned.

He had been sure that he would have been greeted with Ovelia's warm, though rarely seen, smile, or perhaps a thank-you for all he'd done for her. A praise, perhaps, or he'd even settle with a friendly hello. Perhaps something serious actually was troubling her, in which case Delita would have to do some investigating. Were Ramza and Alma's deaths still fresh in her mind, like how they sometimes haunted his? Well, no matter, he'd help cure her mourning. Somewhere inside of him couldn't help but wince whenever Ovelia was hurt. It reminded of him of how he felt about Teta, yet...different. Stronger? Sweeter? He didn't know.

Did he love Ovelia?

Maybe. All he knew is that he'd gladly risk his life for hers.

He slid gracefully off his Chocobo, one hand firmly concealing the wildflowers behind his back. He slowly, yet purposefully, strode forward towards Ovelia, until they were but feet away.

Pulling the flowers out from behind his back, Delita began softly, "I heard it's your birthday today. I got you some flow-"

He would never complete that statement.

Moments after Delita had started to speak, Ovelia had turned. Her golden hair concealed her face, and her knuckles were white, gripping something that gleamed ominously in the bright sun. Her hand was shaking, quivering with an emotion he could not detect.

And then she lunged for him.

Something cold and unforgiving pierced his armor, and slid - like a key into a lock - into the soft flesh the armor was made to protect. Immediately, a burning spread through his abdomen, a searing pain so strong he was nauseated. The flowers cascaded to the ground from his limp hands, a waterfall of pale rose. Only one shocked thought made it through his mind.

_Ovelia...stabbed me...?  
_  
"O...Ovelia...?" he managed to choke out, his voice hoarse with the pain of betrayal, so much harsher than the knife lodged in his stomach.

She finally raised her face to his. Her beautiful angel's face was contorted, twisted with pain and fear and a little bit of hate. Streams of tears tumbled down her cheeks, hot with the burn of emotions Delita had never known she was hiding.

"You used them!" she cried out, her voice constricted, like the effort to even accuse him was almost too much for her. "Just like you'll use me...and then I'll be dead, like Ramza!"

And suddenly, Delita realized the true answer to his own question.

Did he love Ovelia?

Yes.

Would he use her anyway?

Yes, he would.

Unable to think another thought, unable to do anything but react, he did the only thing his soldier's reflexes would let him do. He yanked the knife out of his stomach, pooling fresh blood onto the grass - oh the agony -

- simply to thrust it through Ovelia's heart.

Her body contracted, then fell towards him. Disgusted by his own actions and her last, he stepped back, letting Ovelia fall to the ground. The flowers completed the portrait, scattered around her fallen body like a halo around a fallen angel. He didn't need a priest or a white mage with him to know:

Ovelia was dead, and he'd killed her.

Delita's time was almost up; he could feel it. The blood seeping through his armor was too much, dripping down onto the stained grass. Already his mind was going foggy, unable to decipher past from present...

_"I'll make a kingdom worthy of you!"_

"Do you mean it?"

"I swear on the grave of my dead sister, Teta."  
  
He wanted to die next to Ovelia. He wanted to die holding her still-warm body close, wishing that she would at the very least go to Heaven, knowing his own fate was to be less forgiving...

But he was too revolted by his deeds to do anything but stare, stare at the dead body of the last person he had ever cared about. The knife still in his hand was released from loose fingers, landing on the soft ground with a dull thud. He staggered away from Ovelia, too numb to even cry, his mind still lost with all the people - dead now - that had meant something to him...

_"Ramza. Do you remember when your father taught us to whistle with blades of grass?"_

He fell to his knees, staring up at the sky that seemed to now mock him with its perfection. Everything he'd done...it was all for nothing. Teta was not avenged. He had become King, but too soon he was going to die. He'd tried to fight the current, but ended up tumbling down the endless waterfall that all people ended up drowning in. He was exactly like all those people he had fought to be better than...all those people who were corrupted with power, and he had not realized that he had been corrupted, too, from the moment he had sworn to only manipulate, but never be manipulated. Ramza had been right, and he had been wrong, and he was dying because the person he loved had stabbed him, just when it seemed he was in control.

And it had taken him to the bitter end to realize that he'd never been the right one for power. Only Ramza had been, and he had never wanted it.

"Did you get it in the end, Ramza?" Delita breathed, the words tearing out of him.

_I did,_ he wanted to say. _But it wasn't what I wanted.  
_  
"I..."

The world went black.

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**A/N: In case you haven't guessed yet, this is my portrayel of Delita Hyral and Princess Ovelia's last moments from the game Final Fantasy Tactics. That scene just...jumped out at me, begging to be written. It was such a heartbreaking scene, too... it had seemed as though Delita had finally found love, but...argh, Ovelia! :[**

Obviously, the dialogue isn't the exact same as the game, but I tried to keep it as close. It's not like I was changing the story around. :]

Also, this was based off of the original Final Fantasy Tactics, not the remake that came out for PSP. I've never played that, and I grew up with the original Final Fantasy Tactics. The story has just always stuck out to me...

Of course, this is just how I feel Delita had been feeling at the moment of his death. Others might have taken it differently. But I wrote this with one moral in mind:

_The only ones fit to have power are the ones who never seek it._

I hope you enjoyed my oneshot.


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